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If you’re a hipster geek (or, sadly, if you work at the Phoenix and are fascinated with fonts), you’ve probably seen Helvetica. Helvetica is a film about a wildly popular modernist typeface, used by companies such as American Apparel, Crate & Barrel and American Airlines. (Ever use the el, for that matter? All the signs are in Helvetica. Surprise!) But as popular as Helvetica is, I think these people made the wrong film. I argue that there is a cultural leviathan that is far more prevalent than Helvetica can ever hope to be.
I suggest they make Papyrus.
Although you may not have been aware of Helvetica, I’d be willing to bet you’ve seen Papyrus somewhere. Papyrus is what its designer, Chris Costello, describes as “what American typeface would look like if written on papyrus 2000 years ago.” It looks like calligraphy, characterized by rough edges, and it’s what white people use to connote anything that’s supposed to be rustic or foreign. Where can you see Papyrus? Just about everywhere. Spas. New Age bookstores. Wine cellars. “Ethnic” restaurants. (I feel like I can use the word “ethnic” here to denote anything other than what’s associated with red-blooded American-ness, because that’s why Papyrus is used, right? To seem exotic, otherworldly. They’re not fooling anyone.)
And by the way, everything that sucks uses Papyrus in some way. The film A Haunting in Conneticut? Papyrus credits. Arizona Iced Tea? The green cans use Papyrus. My third grade project on Egypt? Papyrus, everywhere. It’s stale. It’s ugly. It’s inescapable. Sometimes I imagine myself as George Taylor in Planet of the Apes, wrestling futilely with a band of armed gorillas, struggling uselessly against doom. Papyrus has taken over.
It’s interesting to note, however, that although Helvetica and Papyrus are everywhere, they function in exactly opposite ways. Whereas Helvetica is everywhere and seemingly invisible, you can’t help but notice Papyrus and how ubiquitous it’s become. Papyrus signifies something unique, foreign, exotic; it positively screams. Helvetica means, well, nothing. In fact, Helvetica is so widely used because it is noticeable and at the same time, transparent. Says Wim Crowel, a Dutch typographer who was featured in Helvetica, “The meaning is in the content of the text and not in the typeface, and that is why we loved Helvetica very much.” Helvetica is like the announcements on the el: neutral, comforting and authoritative. You don’t question. You hardly even notice.
So what does this say about our role as consumers? Are we readily more able to trust something that uses a “neutral” font like Helvetica, rather than an expressive font, like Papyrus? I would argue that we are. After all, we buy things associated with Helvetica — JCPenny, Microsoft, American Apparel. It’s usually the small, independently owned businesses and products that utilize Papyrus. Not to mention whatever is associated with Papyrus usually sucks. Could it be that we’re more willing to shell out money to something we trust — and subconsciously we’ve learned to trust a font? Kind of a scary thought.
So yeah, I hate Papyrus, and so does every graphic designer and red-blooded American on the planet. But what is really more frightening? A font that tells you how you’re supposed to feel and exactly what you should buy, or a font that’s supposed to represent nothing, an indisputable truth?
To paraphrase Dr. George Taylor, take your hands off me, you damned dirty fonts.
Sarah Watts is the Discourse Editor.
swatts@luc.edu
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